The Next Big Thing

The "contraband" new MX-80 album, it's available now via CD BABY and who knows they might be able to get it out to you in some plain brown wrap. I sure hope so because you need this record. Hear samples at CD Baby and see the WAAB video at the MX site.
You know when you read about something and it states that said object/music/movie/whatev is like nothing else going on anywhere else? Well, this is actual proof that art of such a nature does exist. It might be rarer than sasquatch shit but these guys have been ahead of the game for at least three decades and are quite possibly further out than ever. How's about them apples?

You ever hear that “group” Massive Attack? I always reckoned that they should get done under the trades description act. Their music never moved me one way or another but MX-80 is a whole ‘nother enchilada. Their attack is sizeable, perhaps even massive but they aren't into bragging. A lingering, afterburning quasi-rocktastic soundtrack to dark places with a soothing menace that really hits the spot. There’s some nifty musical shape shifting with the metallic shards of that patented guitar wail haunting most every portal.

It’s a foreboding tapestry of subliminal breakdown. Rich in humour and Rich Stim narrating the noisescapes really punctuates the material to make damn sure that the delivery is never what you expect. “No Brainer” opens “We’re An American Band” with a cerebellum-kicking disregard for your noggin from the off. Like a mutant Jeff Beck sustain being applied directly to the front, centre and rear lobes. The MX twist of the Grand Funk tune is a slothlike trawl but still manages to “party down”. Down being the operative word in a totally up sense.

I’m wondering who outside of the US will ever hear this potentially life-changing set of, er, tunes. Sure, I’ll confess to my bias right now. Having been smitten since hearing “Hard Attack” in 1977 and having had the immense luck to have seen them deliver their mayhem in their home port of SF, this twisted avant-rawk has infected my blood, soul and bones. No point in any undue worrying about it.

There’s something oddly satisfying about songs like “Don’t Hate The French” where Rich warns that Wee Bush fella that he’ll “put a frog in his bidet”. This isn’t something that you might derive instant sensory gratification from. It works on many levels. All the way from background music to full volume, room shaking, eyeball searing tilt. This is the kind of slow-burn genius the planet needs right now and you may well be banned from hearing it, as the drawbridge on Fortress America prepares to be raised another notch or three. I’m sure CD Baby and Family Vineyard will take pity on your unfortunate euro-ass. And I’ll bet Volcanic Tongue is making contingency plans right now. The, um, “authorities” can’t keep something this infectious from infiltrating your musical immune system. Can they?